


Sedated

by ragnqrok



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avenger Loki (Marvel), Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Protective Avengers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Natasha Romanov, loki is a bitch, loki is dumb, natasha and bucky are moms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 17:36:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18168125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragnqrok/pseuds/ragnqrok
Summary: Loki and you are in an engagement that's tearing the both of you apart. You found yourselves pouring out your emotions in sex, not truly understanding the consequences that would come from it. You both were hopelessly in love with each other, addicted even, but only seeing your occasional fucks as the only way you could ever exhibit that closeness. When Loki decides to busy himself with someone else, it tears you apart, bringing you to your brink. Based off of the song Sedated by Hozier.





	Sedated

**Author's Note:**

> hey uh im in class right now and im super bored but hello, thanks for clicking and i hope you like ti

**Just a little rush, babe**

**To feel dizzy, to derail the mind of me**

“Fuck,” Loki groaned as he rolled away from you, his breaths heavy. Your chest heaved as you stared at the ceiling, your previous actions clouding your mind. Loki falls onto his back next to you. You both knew that this night would either go forgotten or ignored based on the heavy stench of alcohol and sex in the room. The music from the party still pounded on the walls and dizzied your mind, but you two had long left the loud get together, both drunk and in need of a stress reliever.

You pushed up from the bed, your legs shaking from the fall from the edge of pleasure. You sit on the bed for a few moments, your eyes trained on the bare wall. You stand up after a few seconds, stumbling over to the pile of clothes on the ground that had been torn off in a frenzy. You slip into the small dress that you had come in, threading your fingers into your heels in the process.

“Where are you going?” his voice comes tiredly from the bed and you close your eyes, your back still facing him.

“It’s a lot easier leaving drunk than hungover,” you say, biting your tongue at the end. Tears prick at the back of your eyes, all too familiar with the feeling of leaving this room in this state. Both of you fall silent, breaths still louder than thoughts for now. You hook your arm into the strap of your clutch, shoving it onto your shoulder.

“Stay,” his voice comes strained and soft, prompting you to freeze, your hand resting on the handle of the door. Your breathing softens as a tear rolls down your cheek. God, you were so stupid.

“You know I can’t do that. This is the last time,” you promise, knowing that it’ll fall through eventually. Soon enough, one of you is going to be pissed off and come running to the other, needing some way to rid their frustration. Or maybe another party will happen, the alcohol feeding into the hormones and the clothes ridiculously attractive, leading to your demise. You leave quickly, escaping through the door and into the dark hallways.

**Just a little hush, babe**

**Our veins are busy but my heart’s in atrophy**

You grab the glass tightly, throwing your head back, the liquid running down your throat, leaving a trail of burning nerves. You slam the glass onto the counter grimacing at the taste of the liquor. You groan, resting your head in your hands.

“You alright, doll?” you hear a deep voice next to you, smiling lightly when your eyes meet Bucky’s. His eyes are filled with concern as they look at your hunched figure at the bar. You turn your attention back to the bar, dropping your head down to the counter. Bucky looks to Natasha, the acting bartender, who only motions to a crowd of people all engaged in a conversation.

Bucky looks over to the group, almost freezing when he notices the god, his arm wrapped tightly around his new plaything. His stomach rolls as his eyes travel up and down the young blond who’s practically melting into the raven-haired man’s embrace. Loki had found himself a new girlfriend, spending most of his free time away from the tower at her place. When you had first found out, you didn’t respond very well, locking yourself in your room and diving into new missions that were long and far away, hoping to escape reality.

You lift your head up from the counter, tears trailing down your face. You look to the assassins, your mascara leaving dark lines behind them. You choke back a sob, your hand hurriedly going to wipe away the makeup, only smudging it more. Both assassins were frozen in shock, watching you carefully. They knew you cared about the god, but they had never seen you cry. You had the reputation of being the opposite of soft. You prided yourself in your tough shell. To make you cry took a hell lot of effort.

That’s when they both realized, you loved the god.

“Hell, doll,” Bucky’s voice is as soft as a cushion on Stark’s couches, filled to the brim with pity and frustration. Natasha hands Bucky a napkin, who soon uses it to brush away some of your tears and makeup. He bends to your eye level, his fingers trailing gently on your cheek. Your eyes look at him, sadness and exhaustion prominent. “Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he sighs, straightening up.

**Any way to distract and sedate**

**Adding shadows to the walls of the cave**

You swirled the ice in the glass, closing your eyes as the frozen liquid bounces against the solid. You wash the remaining liquid down, not even daring to flinch from the burning sensation it provides. You set the glass down gently, your hands shaking slightly. The bags under your eyes tell more than enough of the sleep that you’ve been getting recently. 

“Hey, lady, we’re closing soon. Do you want me to call a cab or do you have anyone you could call?” the man behind the bar asks, his voice almost irritated. You look up, your eyes freezing on the phone behind the bar.

“Can I just use the phone?” you ask and the man seems almost surprised by how sober you appear. He nods hesitantly, just then taking in your distressed state. You stand up, walking around the bar slowly, reaching your hand up to the phone. You press in the numbers to the tower’s phone, praying somebody picks up. A voice registers through the phone, your brain hazy and unable to place it.

“Hello?” you sigh in relief.

“Hi, is this Thor? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I need a ride back to the tower because I’m just a little drunk. I had a lot of margaritas, they’re pretty good. But yeah, can you get like Bucky to grab me? Don’t tell Steve, he’ll kill me. I’m already in trouble,” you mumble through the speaker, your head resting on the wall.

“Yeah, sure,” it responds and you hum in satisfaction. 

You don’t really remember waiting. Or hanging up the phone. All you really remember is the amount of anger and frustration that ripped into your body at the sight of the person at the door. You knew you had let out a sob of what you could only assume as shock once you spotted his dark hair and rough jaw. You remembered the look of despair in his eyes once he saw you, hunched over the bar.

“Oh, Odin,” he had sighed once shooting a thankful look to the bartender, receiving only a concerned nod. “Love, what have I done to you?” he asks, a hand dragging over his face. He bends down, his hands grasping at your frame. You don’t resist, letting him pull your body into his embrace.

**You and I nursing on a poison that never stung**

**Our teeth and lungs are lined with the scum of it**

Loki’s hands carefully set you down, unbuckling and pulling off your heels gently, attempting to not wake you as he throws them somewhere near the door. You only grumble and turn into the comfort of your mattress in your unconscious shake. Loki tugs on the comforter, pulling it over your body, tucking it underneath your chin. He sighs at your state, pushing his hair back. 

He pulls away from the bed, turning back to the door. He freezes once meeting face to face with two very concerned and very angry looking assassins. He looks between the two, before attempting to pass by, only to be blocked.

“Loki, we need to talk,” the red head spoke, her voice soft as to not disturb you, but an underlying threat was held in the air, all three sensing it. Loki nodded stiffly, glancing back at your sleeping form. The two figures start walking, not waiting for Loki to close the door to your room before moving. They enter the kitchen, the lights remaining off. They sit silently at the table. None of them want the lights on.

“What do you want with her?” Bucky sighs, his flesh hand threading through his hair, pushing it out of his face. He looks as the god stays silent, barely moving. The only sign he receives of Loki hearing his question is a clenched fist. “Please, Loki. This isn’t something that we would usually get involved in, but,” Bucky trails off, his voice hanging as if tied onto a thread. All three know why they have become involved.

“We’re just really worried about her. When she’s not working, she’s drinking, and when she’s not drinking, she’s working. I haven’t seen her smile in weeks,” Natasha spoke delicately, but with precision. She knows how to use words to her advantage and she’s damn good at it. She watches as Loki’s facial expression tightens in the slightest at her words, a sense of satisfaction washing over her. She knows how to torture in all ways possible.

They don’t speak for a while, all three sitting in the darkness of the kitchen with only city lights to illuminate them. But they know an answer is coming. They know Loki needs to talk and they especially know he won’t leave without the last word.

“I,” Loki’s voice falls, the silver tongue no more. He stumbles, his mouth opening and closing, stuck in time as if unable to speak. “I don’t know,” he says, honestly. All three are shocked at his response, questioning when the last time he said that phrase was. The assassins exchange uneasy looks before continuing.

“Do you want to hurt her?” Natasha now asks, taking note of Loki’s jaw ticking as he looks away, his attention focused on the glass. When he looks back, his eyes have a sheen over them, one that tells too much of pain.

“I don’t know,” he says more assuredly this time, his voice cracking.

“What do you want with her?” Bucky repeats, his voice still soft and careful, knowing he should tread lightly on this topic.

“I don’t know,” Loki bursts out, his hand coming to pound once on the wood. His breaths are loud as all in the room stills. “Ever since I met her,” he swallows thickly, his throat suddenly feelings like sawdust. “Ever since I met her, I don’t know anything. I don’t know why I feel like this all the time or why the fuck anything she does or I do matters. It never did before, so why the hell should it now? I thought, you know, maybe it’s just the fact that she’s really fucking good at sex. But it’s not. I don’t know what it is, I don’t know where it came from. The only thing I know right now is that I want her. Oh, gods, you have no clue how bad I want her,” he grits his teeth, his voice breaking and his eyes slamming shut at the last phrase. “I want her more than anything I’ve ever desired, and it’s even worse that I can’t have her. That I can’t tell her anything I want to say or I can’t do any of the things for her that she deserves.” The pair don’t respond for a while, just surveying the situation silently. They watch how Loki’s figure has gone from stoic and collected to a trembling and uneasy mess. This was not the Loki Odinson they knew. He had been brought down by a woman with no more than words.

**Somewhere for this, death and guns**

**We are deaf, we are numb**

**Free and young and we can feel none of it**

“Why can’t you have her?” Natasha finally asks, her voice breaking the tension. Loki laughs, the sound hollow and humorless. He looks back between the two.

“Isn’t it obvious? One of us is going to die one day. This job isn’t over and it won’t ever be over. No matter if I go and build a farm out in the middle of nowhere and start a family. The end of this all hasn’t happened yet, but it will. And it’s a hell lot easier leaving with no strings. If she ever comes to find out that I’m anything more than the man I seem, and if she ever somehow decides I’m worth anything, that’ll hurt her more than anything else and I can’t hurt her anymore,” Loki looks between the two, either ignoring or not noticing the tears that have escaped his eyes.

“You’re such an idiot,” Bucky grits out, his metal hand now clenching as the plates on it whir. His eyes are dark and narrowed, only rage evident. “She’s already decided you’re worth more than anything she’ll ever know. She’s wrecking herself right now because you’re making it impossible for her to ever be in your life. You may be right that leaving is a hell lot easier with no strings attached. But what you don’t realize is that it’s worth it. That she’s worth it. She would kill herself before she let anything even touch you, but I don’t know if you would do the same,” Bucky finally chokes out, the silence following filling up the space like a wall. 

“If I ever am the reason she gets hurt,” the god starts. “If anything ever happens to her out there, and if it’s ever my fault, oh fuck,” he stops, his eyes going back to find the skyline. 

“When will you get it through your thick skull that something already has happened? Loki, she’s killing herself. She’s drinking and working herself to death. The last mission she was on nearly killed her and had her in the medical ward for a week. Don’t pretend you didn’t know about that,” Natasha spits, a dangerous mixture of venom and worry lacing together.

“What do I do?” Loki asks, burying his head in his hands, his elbows digging into the table. 

“We’re not going to walk you through this. This is your doing and you’re smart and capable. But, for starters, be there for her. You owe her that at the very least,” Bucky says, his eyebrows furrowed together, his metal hand now relaxed.

**Something isn’t right, babe**

**I keep catching little words but the meaning’s thin**

You groan, your eyes squeezing tighter as a wave of pain greets you. You try to roll over, only grunting once met with more pain. You pry your eyes open, expecting to meet an eyeful of sunshine, surprised to see your curtains closed. You glance around the room, ignoring the waves of dizziness that run at you. Your eyes land on the chair in your corner, a much too large figure propped uncomfortably in the chair, his eyes closed and breathing deep.

“Loki?” you ask, your voice scratchy and burning. Your voice isn’t loud, but its enough to wake the sleeping figure. He stirs, his eyes slowly opening, trained on you. “What are you doing here?” you ask, grumbling as you flop back down on the bed, regretting your actions as a fresh wave of pain rushes to your head.

“I,” he stops himself, eyes glancing around the room yet avoiding you. He sighs, his head drooping and his eyes succumbing to your figure. “I was worried about you,” he whispers and your breath hitches slightly, not expecting the honesty. Maybe a tired Loki is an open book.

“What happened last night? I don’t really remember much,” you mumble, closing your eyes tightly. You rub your eyes with your fists, regretting that quickly as the crustiness of your mascara makes you shiver in disgust.

“You drank. A lot. You called and I picked you up. We had sex,” he says and you roll your eyes, grabbing a pillow and chucking it the best you could at his figure.

“That’s the one thing you can’t lie about. I know how big your dick is and what that means afterwards,” you laugh softly, your heart clenching once hearing an equally soft chuckle emit from the god’s throat. The corners of your lips tug upwards a bit. This was nice. As much as you hated to admit it and as much as you probably should be complaining about your head, you couldn’t help the thought. You loved this moment. Laughing quietly in your room, nothing to disturb you. No lust in the air; just content.

**I’m somewhere outside my life, babe**

**I keep scratching but somehow I can’t get in**

“She wasn’t you,” he says after a while of silence and you furrow your brows, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“Please, don’t,” you almost whimper and you want to slap yourself for seeming so pathetic. “I don’t think I can handle it.”

“I tried to find you. I tried so badly. I thought maybe you would be in her somewhere, but you weren’t. You were so far away,” his voice is barely audible, and you hate the familiar prickling of tears that now fills up behind your eyes.

“Loki, stop, please,” you begged, your voice cracking. You missed the content. You missed the past.

“I miss you, dear gods, I miss you. You have no clue how much I want to be yours and how much I want you to be mine,” he says and your eyes open, staring at the ceiling, salty tears trailing down your temples. You want to sob, but it won’t come. You’re out of sobbing.

“You don’t,” you say, your voice trembling.

“Yes, I do-”

“Loki, you don’t want me,” you hiss, sitting up abruptly, ignoring the overbearing amount of pain that washes over your consciousness. “If you wanted me, if you even cared about me, you wouldn’t have done this. You wouldn’t have. I don’t blame you, I really don’t. Please don’t make me hate myself anymore,” your voice is pleading and breaking at every chance it gets. Loki’s eyes are no longer those of a god. They’re sad, overwhelmingly sad. They’re more mortal and penetrable than anything else you’ve ever seen.

You both stay silent, watching each other, tears mixing with tension that flies between you two. You look away first, somehow feeling like you’re losing this game. Like you already handed the competition over to him.

“I am not what you deserve, nor what you believe me to be. I’m not a god and I’m not a man. I’m not a Jotun. I’m much weaker than those. If I wasn’t so weak, I would take this away in a split second. But to be honest, I don’t know how. I don’t know anything anymore. I just know you,” a sob tears its way out of your chest. “I know what you look like when you’re exhausted. When you’re angry or happy. You’re smile makes my stomach hurt and I don’t know anything else. I know exactly how you like your tea, or your coffee. I know when you’re feeling down by just a look. I know what socks you wear whenever you start your cycle. I know how long you could go on and on about life, and how wondrous you find the little things. I know exactly what song you play whenever it’s far too late in the night and you’re just feeling off. I know you. And I don’t know anything else. Every single time I see you, I swear, nothing else exists. It’s only you. And I’m sorry I can’t be the same for you,” his voice is cut off by your lips attaching onto his, a salty but warm taste filling your mouths.

You’ve kissed before. So many times, most lost in passion and alcohol late at night. And to be fully honest, this wasn’t all too different from the others, but something felt a little more matured. A little more welcoming.

Something a little less sedated and a lot more like home.

**So we’re slaves to any semblance of touch**

**Lord we should quit but we love it too much**


End file.
